


supply and demand

by literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ahch-To, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Horror, Bottom Finn, Creepy, Dark Rey (Star Wars), Dominant Rey, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Sea Monsters, The Dark Side of the Force, Tumblr: finnreyfridays, this isn't nearly as sexy as the tags make it out to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 09:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16472558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte/pseuds/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte
Summary: I am a scavenger, and I'll take what I need.This was originally for @finnreyfridays for the Dark Side theme. I missed the date by two weeks, but I still wanted to contribute for Halloween. Check the notes at the end for expanded warnings.





	supply and demand

She remembers the first time she saw rain, when she felt the water in the lines of her palms and in her hair like grains of sand. Later that night, she fell asleep to the sound of it against the hut’s stone roof and woke up to it dripping onto her forehead and pooling around her neck. She is always damp on Ach-to, damp with sweat, with ocean spray, with blood. She remembers the first time blood covered her from head to toe and dried on her like a second skin, crusting in her lashes and under her nails, plastering her scalp as if she was born once more. And she shed it in the old whispering waters of the cave.

Rey sits under a tree that would have been burned, but the lightning came from her fingertips instead and took her master. The red-berried branches will sustain her, for a while. She cracks her knuckles, first the left - oiled joints too large for her creaking under the wrappings - then the right. She pushes half of her stale bread into her mouth and chews mechanically. The berry jam helps with the taste, but the dry texture of the bread scrapes going down her throat.

The silhouette of Finn walks along the shore. His robes drag behind him in the sand, and he bends down every so often to pick up a half-broken shell or a washed up artifact, tucking them in the leather straps across his chest. He stares at the ocean for hours. Sometimes he lays down as the tide slowly encroaches and lets the water seep into his bones until the seafoam reaches his hair, flecking the short locs with white. He always comes back, shivering, teeth rattling in his skull, and she always takes him back into her arms.

He still wears the homing beacon around his wrist. He followed her here, and he’ll follow her to the end of the universe, but it has to be of his own free will. He keeps it as a reminder to himself that he has a choice, that he could leave any time he desires, but he won’t. He harvests the berries. He whittles spears to hunt and sews the holes in their clothing with needles made from fishbones. He reads the books that Rey won’t touch. He watches the water, and he listens to the cave, and he learns. Nothing will ever imprison him again.

Rey thinks of how terribly young they are, watching him on the shore. The feeling twists inside her, and then it rises up like bile. She puts her hand to her mouth, coughing harshly. Her throat convulses, and her eyes roll back in her head, revealing the sclera veined with bulging pink rivulets.

Dark and slippery wet seaweed comes out of her mouth, webbing between her fingers like saliva, and long tangled ropes of it spill out when she heaves. Her muscles tighten and tremble underneath her skin as if trying to escape the confines of her body, and her spine stands out like little knives along her back.

There's no pain when the Force wears her skin. Only a strange rippling sensation in her throat and a throbbing pulse behind her eyes.

Suddenly Finn is besides her, stroking her hair. She didn't even hear him approach. He looks at her like no one ever has, and she retches, emptying her stomach over the cliff edge. Rey smells of brine and dead fish, of storms on the horizon and beyond the island. It scares him more than it scares her. 

She leans on him as he guides her into one of the huts, sets her down gently, and covers her in thick wool blankets. He makes a fire, and the light flickers in her eyes, earthy tones swallowed by the red and orange glow.

She unhooks the prosthetic - skeletal and exposed, susceptible to the weather - that used to belong to her master and palms the scarred tissue where it ends above her elbow. She unwraps her forearms as well, discarding the moist bandages. They used to protect her from the harsh desert, and now they do the same here from the island rocks. He watches her, because there is no one else to watch.

She reaches out her hand, and he takes her cold steaming flesh against his own. When she smiles at him, water runs out through her teeth, and she hungrily seeks out his warmth. He's a beacon of light, calling her mind back from the churning depths of the sea.

Her lips feel like rubbery eels against his own, and her long, broad tongue slides inside and drowns him. She pushes him onto his back, loosening the leather straps and unbuckling his belt. Fabric tears and buttons scatter over the dirt floor. The fire hisses and spits like a small feral animal.

She touches his fragile human body, spread before her, and her humming reverberates through the hut, making pebbles and little clouds of dust rise. She licks his soft cock into her mouth and laps at him like the waves at dusk, moonlight glistening on the water and in the sheen of sweat on his forehead.

His thigh flexes underneath her as she grinds against him, smearing heat. She caresses his face and his chest, taking her pleasure and slowly wringing it from him likewise. Her slender but strong fingers work their way lower, and, with slight pressure and a sharp gasp from Finn, she curls inside him like the moss that grows only in the cave, in the deepest crevices of stone. Her thumb gently presses against his rim, in and out, matching the rhythm of the tide.

Nostrils flaring, cords of his neck pulled taut like sea-slick ropes, his hips thrust upward and then he collapses. She puts her fingers in his mouth and lets him suck them clean. When she's finished herself, she lays besides him and he curls against her.

Her kisses, for the moment, no longer taste of salt. Together, they might be safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: the implied/referenced murder of Luke, something like vomit, and disturbing imagery that borders on body horror. There's no graphic violence but it might even squick out people who don't like gore. The Force is an ocean and Rey is off the deep end!! The sex IS consensual though, so don't worry.


End file.
